


A Mask of My Own Face

by Thatvivgirl1212



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Angst, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Dreamon, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Prison Arc, post exile
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatvivgirl1212/pseuds/Thatvivgirl1212
Summary: How must it be to know that you are dangerous? To know that people look upon you with fear? To know that you hold the power to destroy? To know that you are chaos? To know that so many would do anything you told them to for the truthful fear that their lives were at stake? To once have sought a mask to hide yourself, that you now hide from?How must it be to not want to be dangerous? To fear yourself?----Or: dream is not in prison. Dream thinks he should be in prison. Hes also not a bad guy! Well- not intentionally
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), if i see a ship you best know im sinking it
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	1. Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hey yall! Back with another fanfiction! (don't fret, Reincarnate is still continuing, I just need more storylines to write) If you happen to have fanart or anything else, tag me! littledoodler12 on insta and twitter!

It was cold.  
The roar of blood rushing in his ears mixed with the crashing of the waves and boom of thunder. Icy pins and needles clawed at his skin as the water soaked through his clothes and stung his flesh. Rain was pelting through the shirt on his back that scratched his skin uncomfortably. Or maybe it was the sand that seemed to cover his entirety that was irritating his skin. His hands gripped onto something circular, smooth like porcelain.

The air smelled of salt and his mouth tasted of blood and the terrible texture of sand and sea water. He wanted to sit up and fling the sand from his mouth, and cough up the water that filled his lungs, and be wrapped in warm blankets and clean clothing, and be shielded from the rain. But he could not will himself to move. And so he laid on the shoreline, waves pulling at his feet, salt burning his throat, eyes blurry as he struggled to pry them open, and rain like tiny shards of glass that pierced his skin. He coughed once, and finally found the strength to turn onto his back. He rolled over from his side, grains of sand clinging in his soaked hair and coating the side of his face. The rain quickly washed it away however, digging at his skin as the storm threw down it’s bullets of raindrops.

Lightning flashed, painting the sky in a momentary daylight before fading back to midnight. The orange suit he wore looked black in the blanket of night encasing him, and the water that soaked it, leaving a damp puddle that surrounded him.  
How long had it been since he had seen the sky. Since he had not been sweating from the heat that filled the space around him? Since he had been cold? Time was blurred for the man. The clock, despite being his only connection to the outside world, had grown boring quickly, and he then only found amusement in tearing it from the obsidian walls and watching it melt and burn as it flew into the lava.  
Perhaps it had been days since those times. Maybe weeks. Months. Surely not years. The clock on the obsidian walls didn’t tell him the date, only how many nights and days he had been locked in that prison cell-

The world finally rushed in around him, as the man realized he was not where he was supposed to be. Fist still gripping the circular object, he looked forward, standing up quickly, his eyes barely adjusting to the dark of the outside world.

Dream would have thought he had finally gone blind, if it wasn’t for the light that snaked down the sky, or, he realized, the walls. Liquid fire blazed against the obsidian and black-stone walls, cascading down into the water below it. The magma sizzled as it was pelted with rain. It poured from a gaping crater in the side of the prison, where the walls seemed to have crumbled or been thrown out from the inside. He watched as the lava flowed across the floor of his prison cell, burning away at the lectern and chests of books as they went up in fire.

Dream’s breath caught in his throat, tearing at his lungs. fear rising like flames in his chest. A chain of dread slunk around his heart, choking him. The cell he had lived in was ruined. He was free.  
Free.  
Dread pulled at his body, tearing and ripping with sharp teeth and bloody claws. Dream was not supposed to be free.  
Dream did not want to be free.


	2. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream has a realization.

The ceramic mask in his calloused, shaking hands stared up at him mockingly. Dream’s eyes darted back and forth from the slightly cracked object to the crumbling, lava stained walls of his prison cell. His head was pounding as he tried to remember what had happened, how he’d gotten in this dreadful state.

The image of a tall figure seeping out from the shadows of his cell played in the back of his brain. The towering silhouette smiled down at him as he lay, reaching for the mask in it’s claws, then the creature leaned down and set the mask in Dream’s outstretched hands. Laughter filled the room as the creature melted back into the shadows, a wide grin painting its completely black face. But even when the monster had gone, the laughter continued, and Dream could hear the sound of his own cackling filling the cell. And then the world went dark, and the last thing he remembered was waking where he was now, a cold beach with a ruined jail close to falling apart across the water in front of him

The rain began to fall harder, the small waves of the ocean at his feet becoming ragged and messed up. His head was pounding, mixing with the churning of the water and the storm pelleting his back. His hands trembled and the mask slipped from his shivering fingers, landing in the wet sand with a thump. Dream fell back, cowering away from the porcelain smile that seemed to be looking straight at him. The lightning from the storm above illuminated it in a terrifying flash. Those beady little eyes seemed to watch him as he stumbled away from it. The smile mocked him.

His breathing came out in jagged gasps as his thoughts spun in a destructive hurricane, howling at the edges of his mind.

_What did I do? God what did I do? I can’t be out here._

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A voice in his head sang, one he knew all too well. Dream spoke to him, telling him to put the mask on. He screamed, throat hoarse.

**Come on. Put on the mask. We only want to help you.**

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“NO! No you do not want to help!” Dream shouted, throwing his hands over his ears as if it was enough to block his own thoughts.

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**Yes we do. Don’t you want a big happy family? We can bring it to you! We will be a part of your big happy family. Just lend us the husk once more.**

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He screamed again, his nails digging into the side of his skull. He fell onto his knees, throwing sand around. The voice- his voice- continued to request that he give in.

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The Dreamon had come into his life long ago. He couldn’t remember when, it seemed as if it were decades. One day he’d tried on a ceramic mask he found and was changed for the worst.  
He didn’t know what the creature was, only that it was a chaos entity that used a mask and himself to bring destruction and fear. His body was a mere husk for its actions. It used him to do it’s bidding, whatever the hell that was. He knew the Dreamon had one objective, but not what it was. But however it planned to get there was done through a series of terrible offenses that it went about as it pleased, using Dream’s voice and memories and brain and body to tear apart the people he would’ve wanted to be friends with. But the creature had long since ended that possibility. Now the man was seen as a monster, a tyrant. Dream knew that he was only a man, but the dreamon planted seeds of doubt in the small space of mind dream had some of left to himself.

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The dreamon didn’t require the mask to do it’s work, but it certainly helped. Once dream had clipped the leather belt of the mask around his head, it was a permanent inhabitant of his mind. He hadn’t been able to take it off by himself since.

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Having this- thing living in his mind had taken a great toll on the man. Dream was breaking, and no longer tried to fight the dreamon’s actions. Perhaps it wouldn’t have affected him so much if he wasn’t there. But he was. Dream has watched through his own, hidden, discolored eyes as the dreamon tore his home apart with his own hands.

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He had watched as an arrow found its place in the chest of a sixteen year old boy. He was forced to stare as a man he might’ve once called friend spiraled downward at the loss of his home and only friends. He watched as he handed the world to his friend and then tore it from his trusting grip. He couldn't blink as he twisted a child’s mind to the point they believed he was the only person that still cared about them. He knew the intention. The intention to turn that child into a monster of war, or wipe them from the world’s surface. To the demon in his mind both situations were considered a win.

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**Come on now,** the Dreamon purred, **You’ve seen for yourself just what power we can give you. The will of the people you once lived amongst is yours. You are above them now, Dream-**

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“No!” The man shouted, interrupting his thoughts. “I am not Dream! That isn’t my name!”

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A deep laugh echoed in the dark corners of his head.  
**Then who? I live in the spaces of your mind Dream. You’ve told others that name and claimed it as your own.**

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“But that wasn’t me! That- that was you! I wasn’t able to stop you,”

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More laughter.  
**Alright then. Who are you? If you who looks like Dream, and sounds like Dream are not Dream, then who are you? What is your name?**

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He swallowed a shuddering breath as the voice waited, annoyingly patient.

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He could not remember. The man that now went by Dream had a name before. A name that brought light to the world every time he heard his friends say it. A name that didn’t strike terror and rage into the hearts of those who heard it.

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“I don’t- I don’t know. But I am not you.” Dream shuddered. He moved his arms over his head in an attempt to shield himself from the rain, and in turn hid his face from the world. “And I won’t let you use me again!”

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That sick, sick laughter came once again. Always the same laugh. So terrible and cruel.  
**You think you have a choice, Dream? You are but a toy to me. Do I need to remind you that you are a simple husk? A lowly human. I can take a hold of the puppet strings whenever I wish.**

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“Then do it! Why bother asking if you’re so damn powerful?” He yelled. 

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**I’m only being formal. You pretend you don’t like what I’ve made of your pathetic self. But I’ve made you so much better than you could’ve imagined. If you don’t cooperate then I’ll simply take what is mine.**

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He took in a shaky breath, now moving his arms till he was hugging himself. His tears mixed with the rain that fell. The storm was dying down, the thunder now a dull ache in the sky. Dream knew there was no choice. The Dreamon would take what it wanted. It always did. When it had stolen him, not once had it offered a choice. The Dreamon always remained in control. The Dreamon never asked.

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The realization bloomed in a dark corner of his heart. A small hope fizzling like a sparkler. A fading firework of celebration.

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“You’re weak”

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For moments there was no reply, the only sound being the movement of the sea and the fading rain.

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**Only momentarily. I still have hold of you, marionette,** The voice rasped. It’s silky, haunting voice now carried a slight edge to it, the slightest hint of fear and the anger of knowing it had no puppet to puppeteer.

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Dream glanced at the mask laying on the shore in front of him, a weak laugh escaping his lips. He pulled himself to his feet and grinned tiredly. Lightning flashed again from further away, illuminating the mask in a dim haze. He now saw the small crack that ran from the corner of it’s smile.

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His thoughts- HIS thoughts spun in their space of his mind. He could feel the Dreamon, hiding in it’s dark corners, waiting to send him back to cowering in fear of it. But he wouldn't. Not for now. Not while he was in control. For the first time in years he breathed as he wanted, he spoke when he wanted, he moved as he wanted, his thoughts stood at the front instead of watching as something else was in control

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He ran his fingers through his hair, and wiped rain from his face. His face. The mask had been in so long he had almost forgotten he had a face that was his own, with light freckles and soft, green eyes. He stood up shakily, as if he’d forgotten what it was like to walk. Dream stepped forward, reaching for the mask as the voice began to insist he put it on. But it’s words carried no value to him, no chance of convincing him now. 

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Dream plucked the mask from the sand and looked up at the prison. An alarm began blaring at that moment, and he was reminded of something Sam had told him many times. His heart dropped

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If Dream got out, he’d be killed on sight.

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End file.
